Zane Julian and the Spinjitzu Master's Stone
by Kiara of the Elven
Summary: Well as you can guess your lovable Ninja are thrown into this story as the characters from Harry Potter read to find out who is who (been writing this for a week just finished these last two days)


**Well everyone I am getting fed up of me starting stories and not finishing them mainly because this story has been stuck in my head and now I am going to finally get it started and until it is finished there will be no other updates well I begin hope you guys like it**

 **Disclaimer: Ninjago and Harry Potter are not mine unfortunately**

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Mr. and Mrs. Brookstone, of number six , Elemental Road , were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Brookstone was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Brookstone was thin with thick black hair and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Brookstones had a small son named Cole and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Brookstones had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Julians. Mrs. Julian was Mrs. Brookstone's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Brookstone pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unBrookstoneish as it was possible to be. The Brookstones shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Julian's arrived on their street. The Brookstones knew that the Julians had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Julian's away; they didn't want their precious Cole mixing with a child like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Brookstone woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday where our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Brookstone happily hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Brookstone gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Cole into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny Falcon flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Brookstone picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Brookstone on the cheek, and tried to kiss Cole good-bye but missed, because Cole was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Brookstone as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number six's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a ferret reading a map. For a second, Mr. Brookstone didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked hishead around to look again. There was a bright red ferret laying on the corner of Elemental Road , but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Brookstone blinked and stared at the ferret. It stared back. As Mr. Brookstone drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the ferret in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that read Elemental Road - no, looking at the sign; ferrets couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Brookstone gave himself a little shake and put the ferret out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Brookstone couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Brookstone was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Brookstone that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Brookstone arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Brookstone always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the Falcons swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as falcon after falcon sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an Falcon even at nighttime. Mr. Brookstone, however, had a perfectly normal, Falcon-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Julian's, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Zane"

Mr. Brookstone stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Julian wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Julian who had a son called Zane . Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Zane. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Zachary. Or Zackerias. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Brookstone; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.

It was a few seconds before Mr. Brookstone realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare.

"Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Dragoons like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Brookstone around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Brookstone stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Dragoon, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number six, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the ferret he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Brookstone loudly. The ferret didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal ferret behavior? Mr. Brookstone wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Brookstone had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Cole had learned a new word ("No!"). Mr. Brookstone tried to act normally. When Cole had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's Falcons have been behaving very unusually today. Although Falcons normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the Falcons have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of Falcons tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the Falcons that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Jumanaki, Garmadon, and Spinjitzuian have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Brookstone sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Ninjago? Falcons flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Julian's...

Mrs. Brookstone came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Victoria, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Brookstone looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Brookstone mumbled. "Falcon's... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Brookstone.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Brookstone sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Brookstone wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Julian." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son - he'd be about Cole's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Brookstone stiffly.

"What's his name again? Zachary , isn't it?"

"Zane. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Brookstone, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Brookstone was in the bathroom, Mr. Brookstone crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The ferret was still there. It was staring down Elemental Road as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Julian's? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Brookstones got into bed. Mrs. Brookstone fell asleep quickly but Mr. Brookstone lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Julian's were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Brookstones. The Julian's knew very well what he and Victoria thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Victoria could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them...

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Brookstone might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the ferret on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two Falcons swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the ferret moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the ferret had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The ferret's nose twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Elemental Road. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and the look of wisdom in his emerald eyes. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His emerald eyes twinkled as he look at the ferret from behind his half moon specticles his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Wu Garmadon

Wu Garmadon didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the ferret, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the ferret seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Light-Taker, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the ferret watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Brookstone,wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Wu slipped the Light-Taker back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number six, where he sat down on the wall next to the ferret. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor Misako.'

He turned to smile at the ferret, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing round glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her grey hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I 've never seen a ferret sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor Misako.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor Misako sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Dragoons have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Brookstones' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of Falcons... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Jamaniki - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Garmadon gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor Misako irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Dragoons clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Garmadon here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day YouKnow-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Dragoons found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Wu?"

"It certainly seems so," said Garmadon. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Dragoon sweet I'm rather fond of"

"No, thank you," said Professor Misako coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Overlord " Professor Misako flinched, but Garmadon, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Overlords name.

"I know you haven 't, said Professor Misako, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Overlord, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Garmadon calmly. " But Overlord had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Skylar told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor Misako shot a sharp look at Garmadon and said, "The Falcons are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor Misako had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a ferret nor as a woman had she fixed Garmadon with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Garmadon told her it was true. Garmadon, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Overlord turned up in Spinjitzu Masters Hollow. He went to find the Julian's. The rumor is that Amelia and Markus Julian are - are - that they're - dead. "

Garmadon bowed his head. Professor Misakp gasped.

"Amelia and Markus ... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Wu..."

Garmadon reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.

Professor Misako's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Julian's son, Zane. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Zane Julian Overlords power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone.

Garmadon nodded glumly.

"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor Misako. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Zane even survive?"

"We can only guess," said Garmadon. "We may never know."

Professor Misako pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Garmadon gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Garmadon, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Dareth's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor Misako. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Zane to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor Misako, jumping to her feet and pointing at number six. "Garmadon- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Zane Julian come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," said Garmadon firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor Misako faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Garmadon, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Zame Julian day in the future - there will be books written about Zane - every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Garmadon, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor Misako opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Garmadon?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Zane underneath it.

"Dareth''s bringing him."

"You think it - wise - to trust Dareth with something as important as this?"

I would trust Dareth with my life," said Garmadon

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor Misako grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy brown hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Dareth," said Garmadon, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Garmadon, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Cyrus Borg lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Dragoons started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Spinjitzu."

Garmadon and Professor Misako bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of platinum blonde hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor Misako

"Yes," said Garmadon. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Garmadon?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the Ninjago Underground. Well - give him here, Dareth - we'd better get this over with."

Garmadon took Zane in his arms and turned toward the Brookstone's house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Dareth. He bent his great, shaggy head over Zane and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly,Dareth let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor Misako, "you'll wake the Dragoons !"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Dareth, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Amelia and Markus dead - an' poor little Zane off ter live with Dragoons -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Dareth, or we'll be found," Professor Misako whispered, patting Dareth gingerly on the arm as Garmadon stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Zane gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Zane's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Dareth's shoulders shook, Professor Misako blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Garmadons eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Garmadon finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Dareth in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Cyrus his bike back. G'night, Professor Misako - Professor Garmadon, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Dareth swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor Misako," said Garmadon, nodding to her. Professor Misako blew her nose in reply.

Garmadon turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Light-Taker. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Elemental Road glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a ferret slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number six.

"Good luck, Zane," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Elemental Road, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Zane Julian rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Brookstones scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Cole... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Zane Julian - the boy who lived!

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 **how do you know you have read this book one to many times when you can write it down by memory yeah none of this is copied I have spent a couple days on this working with the names and punctuation I hope I didn't flip flop any of the names (sighs) now if you excuse me I have to go get an ice pack for my wrist please read and review**


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